


Roll Down This Unfamiliar Road

by altschmerzes



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Episode: s03e11 Seize the Day, Gen, Hugs, Self-Doubt, Team as Family, Touch-Starved, please enjoy 3k of Brother Feelings and Softness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23304397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altschmerzes/pseuds/altschmerzes
Summary: The big 'welcome to the family, sorry I tried to shut you out of it' dinner at Eddie's winds down, and Chimney decides it's time for him - and Albert - to go home. But, as he stands there and looks at his kid brother, half dozing off sitting at Eddie's dining room table, Chimney finds himself frozen, plagued by sudden doubt. What if he's not cut out for this?It's Buck, of all people, who's there with an answer.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Howie "Chimney" Han, Howie "Chimney" Han & Albert Han
Comments: 31
Kudos: 182





	Roll Down This Unfamiliar Road

**Author's Note:**

> i had to, just HAD to do a tag to this episode, because it delivered so hard on everything i hoped for when i found out they were introducing albert. buck wasn't supposed to be here quite as much as he ended up being, but y'know, he does what he wants like that. 
> 
> at any rate, enjoy, and drop me a line to let me know what you think!!

> _Hold on, to me as we go_
> 
> _As we roll down this unfamiliar road_
> 
> _And although this wave is stringing us along_
> 
> _Just know you're not alone_
> 
> _'Cause I'm going to make this place your home_
> 
> _\- Phillip Phillips, "Home"_

What Chimney has come to think of as Albert’s official welcome dinner lasts long into the evening. A revolving door of people from the firehouse and the surrounding orbit have come and gone, the food has been for the most part polished off, and there have been more rounds of cards played than Chimney can remember let alone count. Now things are winding down, most of the guests taking their leave, until the only people left in Eddie’s house are the Diaz boys themselves, Maddie, Buck, Chimney, and Albert. 

Eddie’s gone off to the other side of the house to put Christopher to bed, while Maddie is in the kitchen packing up the truly ridiculous amount of Tupperware she’d carted there with her. Where Buck’s disappeared to is anybody’s guess. Chimney, sitting on Eddie’s couch somewhat off to the side, watching the last stragglers depart and the cleanup effort begin, knows he should be getting ready to leave himself, shepherd both he and Albert back off to his apartment for the night. Something’s leading him to hesitate, though, and so he’s still sitting here, trying to pinpoint the uneasy feeling that won’t quite let him get up.

Right in his line of sight, sitting at the dining room table, is the reason for all the fuss. Albert had originally been trying to help clean up, set the house from moderate chaos back to its original state, but he’d been kindly told off for doing so by both Eddie and, amusingly, Christopher. 

The boy had told Albert very seriously, “The party was for you. You don’t clean up.” His father backed him up, and so Albert had given in without a fight, agreeably sitting back down, in the same chair he now occupies. 

They’ve all gotten pretty tired at this point - Chimney can feel it heavy in his limbs like he’s wearing his turnout gear - but the kid’s got to be exhausted, given his current state. His elbow is propped on the table’s surface, chin in his hand, and he looks, at a generous estimate, maybe half awake. Playing cards are falling from the lax fingers of his other hand, fanning gently over the table like he’d been shuffling them and lost energy part of the way through. 

Looking at Albert now, the way his eyes keep drifting closed, the persistent smile he’d been wearing faded into the neutral-content expression of somebody barely clinging to consciousness, Chimney feels a sharp squeeze in his chest. It’s the same squeeze he’s been feeling since Albert arrived, every time he catches sight of him, and at first he’d thought it was jealousy. But he now knows that the jealousy had been something else, had buzzed hot under his scalp and in his throat, and it’s gone now, but the squeeze is still here.

The sight of his little brother’s face still kickstarts something in Chimney’s chest, and so does that thought, those words strung together _his little brother._ It’s enough to ramp up the stabbing ache until it’s a little hard to breathe, lungs tight and head slightly dizzy. Chimney swallows against the sensation and frowns across the wide room at Albert, unable to figure out quite what’s going on here. So focused is he that he doesn’t notice someone’s approach until the cushion dips next to him, and Buck’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“That’s your ‘I’m thinking really hard about something’ face, Chim, what’s going on?”

Maybe another day Chimney would brush him off, would roll his eyes and say obviously Buck is seeing things, gather Albert and both their jackets and take off. The odd melancholy his friend’s walked in on would be forgotten, everyone would move on, and that would be that. Today, though… Today, the same unidentifiable something that rooted him to the spot in the first place continues to keep him there, and so he actually answers, to the best of his ability.

“It’s Albert,” Chimney says, his voice coming out mostly a sigh. He’d be more worried about being overheard if it wasn’t plainly obvious that the topic of conversation is too tired to pay attention to much of anything, let alone a conversation taking place halfway across the ground floor of the house.

Next to him, the frown is audible in Buck’s words, and then plain on his face when Chimney looks at him, as he says, “I thought you guys got things sorted out?”

“No, we did,” Chimney is quick to assure, then winces. That might be overstating things just a bit. “Or we started to, at least. There’s a lot to sort, but it’s not…” He shakes his head and is silent for a long moment, looking for the words to explain the sudden anxiety that’s taken over. 

It’s a worry that had started in whispers, when he’d made the decision to let Albert stay, and grown bigger every moment since. Maybe it’s so big and so strong now that it’s got its claws in him, and that’s the feeling piercing through him now, pinning his lungs to the back of his ribcage when he looks back away from Buck towards Albert again, still dozing at the table. 

“The last time I did this,” is what Chimney eventually finds himself saying, talking to Buck, low and stilting, but watching Albert the entire time, “I messed it up so bad that Kevin died.” A different kind of pain twists in him when he says the name, seizes his heart and ties his aorta into the knot of a tie in a funeral suit. This one is a feeling Chimney knows well, that hasn’t gone away, despite the years it’s been. It’ll likely always be there, this mix of grief and love, regret and guilt. 

“What do you mean?” 

The tone of the question is enough to draw Chimney’s ping-ponging attention back to him, and it’s reflected in his face. Buck is wearing that look he gets sometimes, wide open and honest, worry outlined plain on his wrinkled forehead and in expressive blue eyes, and Chimney’s heart lurches for the third time in the last ten minutes. He has the same urge he always does when Buck makes that face at him, the need to say or do something to make it go away, to make him believe that everything is fine and everyone is safe, that there’s nothing to be worried about. 

“I don’t know how to be somebody’s big brother,” Chimney confesses instead, because there _is_ something to worry about this time. There’s something to be very worried about, and now that it’s out there, he can feel his own pulse pick up. The anxious fear pounds against the inside of his skull, fierce in the way all his headaches are since the accident, and he can’t get it to quiet down.

“Is _that_ what’s got you all…” Instead of finishing his thought verbally, Buck waves his hand in Chimney’s general direction, fingers waggling like that explains it. The expression he wears has changed on a dime. There’s something almost _amused_ now in the way the corners of his eyes crinkle, the slight quirk of his mouth, and if Chimney weren’t lost already down the cascade of thoughts in his own head, he might find room to be annoyed by that. There’s certainly nothing about this _he_ finds amusing.

“Yes!” 

It comes out louder than intended, and Chimney shoots a quick look over into the dining room just to be sure it hasn’t drawn any unnecessary attention. Fortune is on his side in at least one aspect, because Albert is still mostly lost to the world around him, and Chimney is able to continue, though in a more measured voice. 

“Yes,” he repeats. “I mean, with Kevin, I- I don’t know what I did, or how I did it, but it was just easy, and it felt right, and then he died, and I-” The look from before is back, the worried one, and it’s mixed with a little of what he’d seen on Buck’s face after Chimney came home from the hospital, in moments when Buck thought he wasn’t looking, so he’s quick to clarify. “It’s been long enough that I understand I didn’t do it. Intellectually, I know he was his own person, and he made his own choices. But there’s still always going to be a little part of me that thinks if we’d never gone through training together, if I hadn’t led him into this choice, if I’d had his back better that night, maybe he’d still be here.”

Over the course of a loaded pause, waiting for his throat to relax enough to keep talking and the burn in the back of his eyes to fade enough that he’s sure he won’t actually cry, Chimney watches Albert. If it weren’t for the flutter of his eyelashes, just barely noticeable from this far away, it would be easy to mistake him for being fully asleep, moments from sprawling face-first out on Eddie’s table. 

“But now with him, I…” It’s so hard to explain, what Chimney is trying to get across here, and he has no idea if Buck is understanding any of it. Maybe he is, and maybe it just sounds like a bunch of nonsense, but either way, they’re too far in to just drop it now. “There’s none of that instinct. And the Lees were around then, too, but now it’s just me, he’s just here with me, and I’m _it,_ so if I mess this up… I just don’t think I know how to be somebody’s brother.”

A long silence elapses between them, long enough that Chimney has to look back over at Buck, who for his part flicks his focus from Chimney to Albert and back again. He seems… amused. Again. He’s smiling for real this time, something soft and fond in the look, and Chimney thinks for a second that they must be existing in different time streams or dimensions or _something,_ because there’s no way the same conversation he just had resulted in Buck’s face doing that.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Kidding- What, no, of course I’m not kidding.” Chimney’s almost at the point of being mad that Buck is making light of this, of the very real turmoil bubbling up to a boil in him now that the first wave of Albert-related crises have pulled back enough that there’s room for round two. Here he is, bearing his heart, and this little shithead has the audacity to ask him if he’s kidding?

“Of course you know how to be a big brother,” is what Buck comes back with. He’s still got that ridiculous expression on his face, so sentimental and shiny-eyed that Chimney actually wants to push him off the couch. Seeming to realize that whatever it is he’s trying, it’s not working, Buck shifts tactics. He sits up straighter and there’s more seriousness in his voice when he says, “Okay, look. Remember when I was in the hospital?”

The words _which time_ burn in the back of Chimney’s throat, and he swallows them down. All bets are that Buck probably means the major one, the one that Chimney does indeed remember, despite how much he sometimes wishes he could forget. He nods.

“And how you visited me just about every day? And when there were days that you didn’t visit, you’d call? Twice?”

 _I didn’t want you to feel forgotten,_ Chimney has time to think, and then Buck is off and going again.

“And _then_ when they let me go home you were there too, and you made fun of my taste in movies but you just kept letting me pick? Or that time a pipe burst at my old place and you let me stay with you for like, a week? And how when we’re at the station and I’m telling some dumb story I know nobody actually cares about you always nod at me to keep going so that I know you’re listening?”

Chimney frowns and shrugs slightly awkwardly. “Yeah, I don’t see what this has to do with-”

It’s Buck’s small, light laugh that cuts him off. “I’m just saying. You don’t have to worry about not knowing how to be a good big brother when, y’know. You already are.”

In an instant it feels like all the breath has gone from Chimney’s lungs, and he wants to push Buck off the couch again, wants to accuse him of being overly sentimental, but he can’t find the initiative to do any of that. Buck, ignoring the way he’s just frozen Chimney in place, just grins at him, then ducks down to headbutt Chimney’s shoulder like a particularly affectionate cat. His temple ends up pressed to Chimney’s collarbone for a long moment, and Chimney can’t help but reach up to touch the back of Buck’s head, spiky short hair prickling against his palm when he ruffles it.

And then just like that, Buck is up and gone, off the couch and headed towards the kitchen, evidently deciding his work here is done. Chimney watches him go, eyes drifting to the side as Buck passes through the threshold and out of sight, landing again on Albert. Maybe it’s the tailwind of Buck’s energy pulling him along with it, maybe it’s the echo of what he’d said, but Chimney somehow musters the energy and the spine to get up off the couch himself and walk over to the table. 

His hand only hesitates for a moment, then lands on Albert’s shoulder, shaking it lightly. Ignoring the muttered defense of _awake, I’m awake,_ Chimney says in what he hopes is a steady voice, “Come on, it’s time to go home.”

“Home,” Albert repeats, blinking up at Chimney. “Okay, sounds good.”

There’s something in his face and his voice, in the vantage point of standing over him like this, that slams the reality of just how _young_ he is, square into Chimney’s solar plexus. Twenty. Twenty years old, which is an adult, if you want to be technical about it, is old enough in this country to drive and live alone and vote and not _quite_ drink yet, but once you reach a certain point, it’s impossible to see someone who is _twenty_ and see someone _grown up._ And, Chimney supposes, since he’s been avoiding seeing Albert at all since he got here, it’s understandable that it wouldn’t quite hit him until now. 

Maddie and Buck are in the kitchen, Maddie leaning back against a counter and smugly watching Buck do dishes, when Chimney pokes his head in to say goodnight. He kisses Maddie and ruffles Buck’s hair for real this time, and tries not to read too much into the way Albert _beams_ when they both hug him goodbye. Eddie re-emerges right as they’re about to head out the door, and Albert thanks him with a politeness Chimney’s embarrassed to think he’d have sneered at as fake not that long ago. 

Much as he’d brushed off the attempts at helping to clean, Eddie waves away the thanks, looking over Albert’s shoulder straight at Chimney when he says, “It’s what you do for family, right?”

Albert’s smile flickers a little, its wattage dimming just a fraction, before it snaps back to its original radiance, and he says, “Right.”

It’s a miracle, as far as Chimney is concerned, that they make it the entire drive home without Albert falling asleep in the car. They walk up to his apartment, the wear of the day slowing both of their tired steps, until both Han brothers stand in his hallway, wavering before the separation towards bedroom and futon couch respectively. Just as Chimney is about to bid him a goodnight and turn away, Albert’s stops him, hand shooting out and grabbing onto his elbow.

“Thank you,” he says, sincerity shining bright. “I had a really good time today. Your friends… They’re great. Your family is really great. Thank you for giving me the chance to be a part of it.” The grip he has on Chimney’s arm is light, hesitant as if he doesn’t know if he’s crossing some kind of line, but lingering like he’s not quite ready to let go. 

That is the moment Chimney realizes, with a small jolt, that in the entire time he’s been here, he hasn’t hugged Albert once. Which then expands out into the entirety of their lives, and before he can overthink it, he’s reaching out and tugging on the sleeve of the jacket, pulling Albert close and hugging him fiercely. The kid doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. His hands are enough, fingers digging hard into Chimney’s back, and his face is pressed into Chimney’s shoulder. It’s almost possible to say he’s shaking, just the slightest bit, so faint there’s no way it would be noticeable if he wasn’t holding on so tightly. 

In a mirror of the way he’d touched Buck earlier, after his bizarre affectionate move on the couch, Chimney’s hand covers the back of Albert’s head, and that pain is back. It spikes in his chest and he remembers back through the last few days, what he hadn’t let himself see. 

The way Albert had smiled so wide, beamed and shone like the sun coming out every time someone reached out to him, literally or metaphorically. How it seemed like he was almost auditioning, every time he talked to any of them, Chimney himself included, how he’d basked in it when it seemed like he was received with welcome, open arms. He’d been so fixated on what Albert got that he didn’t, that he hadn’t spared a moment to consider what he might have gotten that Albert lacked, and he feels it now, in the phantom of the strength of Hen’s hugs, Buck’s head knocking into his collarbone.

 _You deserved better,_ Maddie had said, and _I had better,_ Chimney had told her. And it’s true. He did have better, he still _has_ better, but maybe Albert never did. Maybe that’s what he’d come here looking for, more than a future he could shape himself, more than aimless post-graduation wandering. 

Pulling back, Chimney holds his baby brother’s face in his hands, studying Albert and letting himself actually _see_ him. His voice is caught in his throat, twenty years worth of unsaid words, of a relationship he’d never gotten the chance to even want to have all bunched up behind his tongue and unable to make their way out. Taking a deep breath, thumb stroking lightly over the line of Albert’s hair just above his ear, Chimney quiets it all down. 

Right here, right now, in his hallway late at night when they’re both exhausted, is not the time. He’s got all the time in the world to say all of that, to figure out exactly what it means to be a brother- to be Albert’s brother. So all he says in the end is, “Goodnight, Al,” and lets that be, for the moment at least, enough.


End file.
